3. You told yourself you were going to submit something you wrote, but never did.

4. You did submit something, but you never heard back.

5. You did hear back — and all you got was rejection.

6. You’re discouraged by the feedback you’re getting — you’re not as “good” as you thought you were.

7. Your book didn’t sell as many copies as you hoped it would.

8. Your blog doesn’t have as many readers as you thought it would by now.

9. You’re not making as much money writing as you think you should be.

10. You’re not as excited about your latest project as you were when you started it.

11. You want to give up. Quit.

12. You have given up already, because things didn’t work out the way you dreamed they would.

All these things don’t collectively make you a failure. They mean you are learning and growing. There isn’t a single writer out there who starts out knowing exactly what to do, exactly how to do it well, and with enough skill and experience to create success in a matter of months. All writers start in the same place: never having written anything before. We all have to figure it out. We all have to try something a dozen different times, a thousand different ways, before we either quit or something starts working.

You are not a failure. You are a writer. If you were perfect, if everything you did worked out the way you hoped it would, success wouldn’t even be worth it. It’s the thrill of it all, the fear of failing, the relief when you finally do something right — and the uncertainty that you’ll ever do it well again — that makes challenging yourself worth the achievement.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

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I write about health. Sometimes that means I get to fill internet space with food puns and fun facts about the history of Tater Tots or whatever. Sometimes I also write about things that are difficult to swallow — like a current piece I’m working on about adults with autism (who, real talk, have it way worse off than most of us, in a dozen different ways).

Writing experts will tell you different things when discussing how to deal with the tough stuff. Especially when you’re reporting on facts (no opinions allowed), you’re either told to keep your emotions out of it or use them to write a really kick-butt story.

In college, I had to learn to tone down my enthusiasm when writing about campus life (which I loved). So I’d write a few paragraphs in a Google Doc about how cool Event X was, and then I’d switch over to my Word document and write a much more concise, yet still interesting and informative, review.

The more you’re able to keep your feelings and your work separate, the better your work will be. Passion can drive productivity without influencing the products directly. Unfortunately, I see a lot of stuff published online that doesn’t do a great job of this. When you put your opinions and feelings first, facts are misinterpreted, exaggerated, or forgotten completely. That doesn’t help this misinformation epidemic we seem to be experiencing, especially in the science community. You’re allowed to have an opinion. But there’s a space for editorial writing, and there’s a space for letting the facts speak for you.

Here’s what I suggest. When you’re writing about something you have an emotional connection to, first focus on the facts. Forget what you already know, at least for now. Learn everything there is to learn. Sometimes, you end up gathering more background information than you’ll need, which doesn’t hurt.

Then, you can take those facts, string them together into an informative steam of paragraphs, and let your emotions influence you to write a really great, accurate thing in place of something that strays from the truth just so you can get your personal point across.

And then you can be as emotional about those facts you’ve just learned as you want. Because in many cases, your job as a writer is to help other people decide how they want to feel — not force your own feelings onto someone else.

Something strange happens when you’re a journalist who also happens to like writing fiction. You get all these random ideas for books, and short stories, and TV shows. You may not be an actual expert on a particular subject, but working on an assignment for even a few days, by the end, it sure feels like it. And when you’re writing fiction, you don’t have to keep your opinions and/or feelings to yourself. You get to dump them ALL OVER those pages.

It’s refreshing, it’s fun, and it just makes you realize how all the writing you do from day to day fits together like puzzle pieces, no matter how unrelated one job might be from another.

Emotionally-driven writing has its place. But sometimes, your voice is going to have much more of an influence if you focus on facts first, leaving your feelings tucked between the lines.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

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Are you an easily distracted writer? I could make this post very short and sweet and tell you to get off the internet and just write already, but that doesn’t always solve your problem. I’ve greatly improved my ability to concentrate over the past few months, which has made me much more productive and satisfied with my work. Here are a few strategies that might help you focus and get more writing done.

Write in intervals

You’re going to get distracted — sometimes, there’s no way to avoid it. If you’re having trouble getting into a flow state, it might be better to use your inability to focus to your advantage. Try writing for 30 minutes straight without looking away from your screen. Set a timer so you don’t have to keep glancing at the time. Once 30 minutes hits, one of two things will happen. You’ll either stop writing and allow yourself to be distracted for 10 minutes or so, or you’ll keep writing, your temptation to do something else having disappeared.

Write what’s most interesting to you right now

I never write fiction in chronological order. If I have to step away from writing in the middle of a scene, it’s almost impossible for me to go back to it later with the same enthusiasm straightaway. If there’s a string of dialogue or an important plot point at the front of my mind, I write it, no matter where it appears in the story. Some days, you just have to write what you want, and skip over what you’re not in the mood for. You’ll concentrate much better when you’re fully invested in a scene or topic.

Pick a place and stay there

I’m all for a healthy change of scenery from one writing session to the next, but I can’t start writing in one place, pack up and move somewhere else, and continue on as if nothing’s changed. If that sounds a lot like you, make sure you’ve blocked out a block of writing time that doesn’t require getting up and moving somewhere else. I find it’s much easier to completely immerse myself in what I’m writing if I have the luxury of forgetting where I am and what time it is.

Designate your writing time as writing time only

If I really need to focus on writing something in the next few hours, and I’m able to, I completely eliminate all distractions from my immediate surroundings. I block certain websites I know I’ll be tempted to check, I put my phone upside down on my desk, I have a giant glass of water (and maybe a snack) within reach, I close my door, and I write. I don’t answer messages or emails (unless I’m working and someone pings me on Slack) — I completely isolate myself from the world for a designated chunk of time. And I live with three other people and a very needy cat. If I can do it, you can, too. If you have to, get up earlier or stay up later than everyone else to get that alone time you need.

Choose background noise, or silence

There are two kinds of writers: those who depend on background noise to concentrate, and those who will shave off your eyebrows while you’re sleeping if you so much as sneeze in their presence mid-creative burst. Figure out which one of these you are (I’m the latter) and make sure you’re in the right environment while you’re writing. Sometimes, light background noise like rain can help even those who hate interruptions. Everyone’s different. If you can’t stand noise but need to write in public, invest in a pair of noise-canceling headphones. My Beats are a lifesaver.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

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I am a millennial. And like a stereotypical millennial, I do not like being categorized. I am not a label. I am unique.

However, what I also don’t like (again, to fit the stereotype) is that my desire to “be unique” has a negative connotation I cannot escape. Especially when it comes to writing.

I see it everywhere: writers begging to be read, people insisting that their zombie apocalypse romance novel is like nothing anyone has ever come across before.

Wanting to be seen as “unique,” as a writer, is its own real-world cliche. It’s laughable, almost. As I pound slowly away at my YA novel, I can’t help but think of all the other novels like it already on the market.

Still, I keep writing anyway. Because I don’t see a desire to stand out in the writing world as a bad thing. At least, not in terms of my own definition of “standing out.”

Being unique doesn’t mean you’re looking at what everyone else is doing and intentionally doing the opposite.

It doesn’t imply that you are uninterested in what others are doing, thinking, or saying.

And it does not mean you have more of a right to succeed as someone else.

Uniqueness as a creator is about voice, about interest, about purpose. To be unique means you write in a way no other writer does, with a particular drive no other writer has.

You might write a sci-fi thriller about teenage assassins, and there are other stories about underage menaces out there, but that doesn’t stop you from giving your story a spin and a style and a moral that is completely original.

What makes a writer unique, when there are so many other people trying to do the exact same things they are, is knowing exactly why they’re doing this, what they’re trying to accomplish, how they’re going to move forward, where they want to be in x amount of time, and who is going to help them get there.

Because no two people have the same answers to the who, what, when, where, why, or how questions of writing. It’s not possible.

And if it is, well, their chances of making it very far are minimal.

In five years, I may not know EXACTLY what I want to be doing. But I know the different roads I could take from here, and I know what is required and expected of me to get where I want to go. That is what sets me apart from other writers. I would be surprised if there were multiple people out there who wanted the exact same things I do, in the exact order, for the exact same reasons.

Knowing what I want — and not worrying about what anyone else is doing, at least as a means of comparing my success with another writer — is why I’ve made the progress I have in the last five years. Not because I “dared to be different,” but because I chose to look at writing differently than I noticed other people looking at it.

Be unique. Define exactly who you want to be as a writer and go after it. If it just happens to be “unique,” well, so be it.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

It doesn’t matter why it makes you feel that way — what’s important is that you feel it. It’s not imaginary; it’s real. Heart pounding in your chest, throat closing up, palms sweating, knees shaking … whatever you physically feel when you get nervous, it should make you feel like that.

It could be a scene in a book or short story you’ve been avoiding.

Or a blog post about something you haven’t felt comfortable addressing.

An email to someone you figured you could just forget about.

An article that’s a little more controversial than you’re used to.

A poem that hits too close to home.

Why am I asking you to write something that makes you feel uncomfortable? Because we — all of us — spend way too much time in our writing comfort zones.

Yes, even me — someone who does this every day. I slip into patterns. I lock myself into routines. I don’t always challenge myself enough. And that’s a problem.

When you don’t write things that make your heart beat faster, you’re not growing. You’re not learning anything. You’re not daring to try something different; something new. You’re just sitting in that chair or laying on that couch writing the same things you do every single day.

No wonder you’re bored. No wonder writing feels so much like work.

April is halfway over already. We’re almost at the five-month mark of 2017. I can guarantee you haven’t accomplished a third of the writing goals you’ve set for yourself this year (if any). And I’m pretty confident in guessing it’s because you just haven’t challenged yourself to step out of your writing comfort zone yet. You keep telling yourself you’re ready. Yet your toe never moves over that line.

Part of what makes good writing good is that you feel everything your reader is supposed to feel reading it as you’re sitting here writing it. Maybe you don’t write things that make you feel uncomfortable because you don’t like feeling that way.

But that’s what writing should be. Feeling. Opening yourself up to the world, letting yourself be vulnerable, not just saying what people want to hear, but showing them the lessons they need to learn. How can you expect a reader to get anything out of your words if you’re not benefiting from them in any way yourself?

Write something that makes you feel nervous, like what you’re about to say is going to change the world whether you’re ready for it to or not. Because you never really know. It just might.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

When I’m giving my audience writing advice, I’m very careful to repeat one key phrase, no matter how many times I’ve written it before:

“This is what worked for me.”

I do this because I never want someone reading about how I accomplished x to assume my way is the right way. It’s not. In fact, I’ve done, and still do, a lot of things wrong. Many of those things, I was told, were “right.” They were right – just not for me.

I want to let you in on a little secret many writers don’t know: there is no “right” way to do anything in this business. Not really.

Because you’re just one person. So is the person telling you what worked best for them.

What works for someone with a large audience probably won’t be effective for someone with a small audience. Those with small audiences might actually get more engagement than anyone else. What works in one niche probably won’t do as well in another.

Every writer’s circumstances are different. So how do you really know that what you’re doing, because someone else told you to, is the best way to do it?

You don’t.

I’ve found that the best way to figure out what works, especially with a small audience, is to first learn what absolutely does not work, ever. There are unwritten rules of writing online that just shouldn’t be broken (mainly in terms of etiquette – or netiquette, I guess).

But then, once you know what never works, you have to go by trial and error. There’s something that’s going to work for your blog, for promoting your writing on social media, for selling books – whatever it is you’re trying to do to “make it” or however you want to phrase it.

I’ve tried many things I was sure would work, but completely flopped.

I’ve tried things I figured wouldn’t go over well, but they ended up succeeding.

I only know – as much as I can at this point – what works for me and what doesn’t because I kept trying different things until some of them stuck.

Stop driving yourself crazy trying to do things “the right way.” You’re only going to be disappointed when the things authority figures promised you would work never work.

Do things the way you want. Then keep doing the things that work out in your favor, and stop doing the things that don’t.

Don’t like writing listicles? Don’t write listicles.

Don’t like making infographics? Don’t make them.

Want people to engage with your content on Facebook but not on your site? Disable comments.

Do whatever you want. Really. Because that’s how you figure out what the people in your audience respond well to and what they don’t. Stop worrying so much about what you’re doing right or wrong. It might seem like the answers are easy to come by, but they aren’t.

I had to learn this the hard way. So I’m sharing what I’ve learned with you now. Figure it out. Learn by doing. Don’t rely on someone else to steer you in the right direction, because no one knows you, your work, or your audience the way you do. This is on you to figure out. And I know that seems scary. Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as an adventure full of discovery, failure, and – eventually – success.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

If you had one chance to reach everyone, everywhere, right now – what would you say?

What are the first words that come to mind?

Which topic would you choose as your focus?

What would your angle be?

How would you feel, writing it all down?

The answers to all of these questions are what make up your mission. Your purpose. The one thing in a single lifetime you set out to accomplish with the help of your words.

A long time ago, I stopped using the following phrases:

My words don’t matter

No one is listening to me

I’m not important enough to make a difference.

Because what do I – what do we – know about any of these things? If we had a chance to publish something everyone would see, we would write about the same things we’re writing about now.

Wouldn’t we?

And if we wouldn’t – then what are we doing with our time?

If you aspire to write in such a way, with such an audience, that helps you change the world as well as the people in it, then you should already be writing about the things that matter most to you. You should already be spreading the exact messages you would send to every person in the world, if you could.

The best way to make good use of your time is to write as if your words DO matter. As if EVERYONE is listening. Like you ARE important enough to make a difference.

So. What would you write about?

Rather – what are you going to start writing about today?

Because today isn’t just another day. It’s a new beginning. Or it could be, if you let it.

Write something meaningful today, as if the world is ready and waiting to read it. Because for all you know, they are. Online is still a wondrous thing, in that you don’t always know who is out there reading what you write; benefiting from what you say; living out the advice you give. It’s lovely to know when a specific person is listening. It’s thrilling to imagine everyone who might be, though you may never know for sure.

If nothing else, write because there’s a possibility your words are someone else’s hope. The world feels very big, and you feel very small inside it, until you realize there’s a lot you don’t know about how far your words can reach.

To think over seven billion people will read your words all at once might be wishful thinking. But you’re a writer. Nothing is impossible when making up realities is your job.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

I come across many writers who struggle to finish projects. They start, they are excited to get going, but they very quickly abandon their work.

There are a few different factors that play into this problem: focus, discipline and confidence (or lack thereof) are a few common hurdles.

But many people also don’t realize what they’re actually doing when they hop from one project to the next.

The moment they get a new idea for a story, for example, they immediately start writing it.

In many cases, this is a surefire way to fail before you’ve even really started.

How about trying this instead: don’t start writing the new story or working on the new project.

Let the idea sit there.

Let it take up space in your brain.

Let it beg to be written, even if it drives you crazy.

Because here’s what happens: the idea either dies, or it thrives.

It either dissolves into nothing or blossoms into a project worth pursuing.

If it’s not important to you, if it doesn’t have a solid enough foundation or it’s just not as interesting as you initially thought it would be, it will go away. You likely won’t miss it.

When it does matter, when you really want to develop it, when your creativity is already starting to take hold of it, it won’t disappear. You won’t forget it.

So many people complain about writing taking too much time (indirectly). Why waste time on an idea you don’t care about, that isn’t important to you?

For many people, the longer an idea stays untouched, the more chance it has to develop before the work even begins. And that makes you feel even more motivated to finish what you’ve already started, so you can move on to this new idea that truly is growing on you.

Jumping into a new idea too soon, you’re so much more likely to quit. It’s underdeveloped. All you have is the one small element of an entire story that sparked the idea in the first place. Once you get past that, it stops being fun (mostly). It gets hard. And many people don’t know how to handle that.

Wait. It’s not going to kill you.

This is not the best method for every writer to follow. But it can be very helpful for those who consistently start and abandon projects without ever finishing anything in full.

I’ve been sitting on a new idea for a book for months. Every time I think about it, I get excited. But I know I’m not ready to start writing it yet. I’m not putting it off – I just have way too many other projects that are of a much higher priority than starting a new book.

Last night, I randomly got an idea for a TV show. I’m probably not going to even outline that for at least a year, if I do end up still wanting to pursue it by then.

I personally love letting new ideas circle around in my head. They make me happy on days when writing other stories gets frustrating. But I’m also a big believer in not abandoning things you’ve started, especially things you’re nearly 70,000 words into. Sigh. So, no new stories for me!

Yet.

I know many people don’t agree with the idea that you should let an idea simmer. But feel free to suggest a more effective cure for “can’t ever finish anything” syndrome. I don’t have that problem – but I can understand how frustrating it can be. And I’d love to help, any way I might.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

I’m not complaining about writing posts people like to read. It took me a long time to figure out how to do that (and it’s a continuous learning process).

But really? The more doubt I feel, the more success I have?

Granted, correlation does not equal causation. Research suggests the more confident you are, the better you perform.

Confidence is weird. So is being a writer.

If you’ve experienced this, well, I have a few theories about why this might happen. And if I’m the only one who has this problem, I’m still going to write about it anyway. I find these things probably more fascinating than I should.

It could have something to do with risk. Yesterday, for example. I let my evil twin Greg post on my blog even though I knew it would probably be an absolute train wreck. It turned out not to be as awful as I’d expected. Sometimes we just go all out and try different things to see what sticks. It’s terrifying. Many times, though, it actually works out in our favor. Fear clouds are judgment. We don’t think we’re going to succeed. And when we do, we have a harder time understanding why what we wrote didn’t suck as bad as we expected it to.

Or maybe we need to learn to listen to our ideas more. The phrase “go with your gut” actually holds some meaning. While it’s true that we sometimes return to recent ideas and decide not to move forward with them, when it comes to deciding whether or not to publish something, I think many of us know deep down what the right choice is. If an idea says, “Publish me!” and I don’t see the harm in doing so, why not? Most of the time, the worst that could happen is that people either don’t click on a post, they unfollow you, or they leave some mean-spirited remarks. Hey – you tried.

Honestly, let’s just let ourselves be terrible. Sometimes, I don’t know if an idea is good until I toss it out into the open to see how people react. It’s a disadvantage of having a small audience. When I went what I personally perceived to be a diversity rant last weekend, I was legitimately afraid that I wasn’t being clear, or that I was saying something wrong. Of course, what I had to say wasn’t as “out there” as my stupid anxious brain convinced me it was.

Oh, right. That anxiety thing. Yeah, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tossed and turned the night before a blog post went live because I was so worried about it. Anxiety is something you have to learn to handle in whatever way works best for you. Half the time I kind of just downplay my own fear and regret until it doesn’t feel real (because it isn’t). Then I write a whole bunch of words and try my best not to care about all the ways people might or might not react to them. Honestly, this is just part of who I am. It makes concentrating hard, but I make it work. I make writing happen, even though most of the time I’m convinced everything I’m saying is nonsense.

Thank you for giving everything I have to say a chance. I really do appreciate it. If you’re like me, and you can’t ever seem to figure out why what you’re doing is working – well, welcome to the blogging life. Does anyone really have any of this figured out?

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.

The deal breaker for me are a story’s characters. If, by the climax of a story, I do not care what happens to them, if I am not devastated by the possibility of an imaginary person failing or dying, then I cannot in good conscience call it a good story.

But more importantly, if a story’s main characters don’t transform from start to finish with great significance, I walk away disappointed.

It’s very easy for us, as writers, to shake our heads at a story that exhibits poor character development. “I can’t believe how bad that story was. Unbelievable.”

We forget how hard this is. You know. Telling stories.

Someone writing their first story will not have yet mastered the complex process that is fully developing at least one character. It doesn’t mean they’re bad at writing… this is just something that takes many, many pages’ worth of writing experience to come even close to getting right.

Have you ever wondered why this is? It’s because we spend a lot of time focused on ourselves in general. That’s just how humans are.

And it’s very hard to track our own character development in the long-term. Because time moves slowly. You change as a person at an even slower rate.

You and the people around you do not grow and change in a matter of a few hundred pages, as a cast of characters does in a book. It takes years to develop as a human being, regardless of the severity of the catalyst that prompts people to mature and transform.

A typical character arc, as you know, begins with some kind of life-altering event. What was once normal is no longer tangible. Character development is the process of a fictional person essentially “growing up” as they learn from the string of events that originally set their story in motion.

But that’s the easy part. Throw in the fact that people turn up their noses at cliches and stories that are too predictable. Keeping someone interested in a story as you work through on paper how to get a character from point A to point X is one of the most challenging parts of writing a full-length novel.

And when you’re writing something shorter, you meet the seemingly impossible challenge of developing a dynamic character in a very brief span of time.

Time in stories is not what it is in the real world. It takes you years to understand why that thing that happened to you in high school shaped your life at 25. How are you supposed to figure out your character’s whole life story, while trying to balance everything else while you practice telling it?

Patience. A lot of focus. Things many writers, unfortunately, aren’t willing to take the time to develop.

Time. Fun to play with, but so, so trippy.

On a page, you are in control of time. Outside of it, you aren’t. So even when you’re sitting here creating stories out of the most significant things that have happened to you, you don’t always yet know exactly how they will change you.

And you’re often responsible of not only creating a backstory for a stranger, but taking over their life, making bad things happen to them and then showing them how to make the most of it.

That’s a lot of responsibilities to toss around in your head all at once.

Deciding the best way for your character to develop as a result of all their experiences is like speeding up time – it is not an easy thing to do. Especially for a beginner. Even for those who have been writing for years. Including me.

If I really want to fully develop my dynamic characters as effectively as possible, I still have to chart their growth from the beginning of their story to its end. It is the only outlining I have ever done when writing fiction on my own, and I do it because I have to – not because I like it!

OK. Maybe a small but very nerdy part of me does enjoy it a little bit.

Character development is extremely difficult to get exactly right. Even some of your favorite books, shows and movies aren’t perfect when it comes to their dynamic main characters. Developing a story, you might spend hours upon hours figuring out how each of your characters’ individual arcs interlock from a story’s start to finish … without actually writing anything.

If anyone who doesn’t write ever asks me why exceptional books take so long to write, I’m going to point them to the above paragraph.

Let me say it again: GOOD STORIES ARE HARD TO MAKE.

This is why I always have to stress the importance of taking the time to get to know your characters, both before you start writing and as you dive headfirst into actively creating every story. Sure, there will still be surprises along the way. No sensible character reveals all her deepest secrets within hours of first meeting you.

But you have to have at least some sense of where you’re going. Not all the pieces have to fit together yet. But you need a starting point.

And even if your starting point seems small, and in the middle of all the action, you have to make sure you start writing. Characters literally will not develop themselves. Don’t get caught up in having all the answers before you begin. Just set out with enough of them to let your interest and excitement carry you forward.

In the years you spend writing, you will create dozens of well-written stories – stories with beautifully developed characters, expertly crafted plots… everything you’ve ever imagined yourself creating.

You will also write hundreds upon hundreds of stories that miss the mark in one or more of a book’s most important elements. You will try your hardest to develop a perfect character. And many times, you won’t get it exactly right.

But that’s a pretty sweet metaphor for life in general. Sometimes you’ll try something and it will work. Or it won’t. Or you’ll succeed and have no idea what you even did right.

No matter what happens, always come back to your characters. The same ones you welcome into your mind, and raise, and set free. An imaginary person, it turns out, can teach you a lot about how much of a different person you are now, compared to who you used to be.

Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a freelance writer and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner with work published in Teen Ink, Success Story, Lifehack and USA TODAY College. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.